Sabel
by Little Ucchan
Summary: A man journeys to correct the past. Angels, demons, and his own nostalgic feelings stand in his way. But he won’t fail. Even heaven can’t stop him. (Sage-centric. Death and apocalyptic themes.)
1. How Far Gone

Shinjuku.

I can't say I have any fond memories of this place. But it's home, nonetheless.

I've sweat blood and tears here. They've stained the floors and smeared the walls.

My heart screamed here. Echoed down the streets; ripped out so many times with each death that I witnessed. Trampled on every time it's not my own.

Shinjuku is my home. Well… even if it wasn't, I couldn't bring myself to leave here. My soul is weaved too deep into the tragedy that surrounds me. And that will be my undoing… my connection to this place.

I am destined to die here. Like my friends had.__

~~~~~~

Sabel

Prologue: How Far Gone

By Little Ucchan****

~~~~~~

"You're not considering that idiotic plan, are you?"

They were standing on top of the Tocho, the 48-story twin towers that served as the capital's City Hall. Steel and glass flanked them on either side, one of the few monumental skyscrapers that still remained, and from their vantage point, on the bridge that adjoined both towers, they could see all of Tokyo, the desolate city that it was.

He smirked, though the topic nor the scenery were anything to smile at. It exasperated his companion.

"Are you mad?" He tossed his head to the side irritably, blue locks jerking at the movement. "Or just suicidal?"

"Maybe a little bit of both."

"Stop joking around," he snapped as the other man fought back a chuckle. _He's been acting so strange as of late. _He folded his arms over his chest, regarding the tall blonde sitting on the ledge, so calm and graceful. No one would know that the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. No one would know that he had the guilt of his friends' deaths eating away at his soul. No… All you'd see was a mellow man that could find humor in the strangest of situations. _How much he's changed from the samurai warrior I met so many years ago…_

Though one thing remained the same.

He was still as reckless as ever.

"It'll be dangerous," he tried again. Maybe this time he'd be able to sway the swordsman's decision. "Chances of getting there unnoticed are slim. They'll find you before—"

"I know."

He stopped, startled for a moment before he shook his head. "You really _do_ have a death wish."

"Not really!" the other man laughed, brushing back his bangs in an unconscious gesture. "But, you've got to admit… They've got us cornered. We can't possibly defeat them now. In fact," he laughed again. "we're as good as dead."

"Thank you for that bit of _optimism_," he gritted, resisting the urge to add 'baka' at the end of his sentence. He didn't need to hear that kind of talk. Not now, when it was so close to the truth. _We can't win._

He gave a snort, grudgingly resigning to his fate. _Guess there's no use lying to myself anymore._

"You're right. Our situation is hopeless," he admitted. "But does it have to come down to this? Sneaking into the Nether realm to use a time gate that isn't guaranteed to work? And why you? _I_ should be the one going."

It was the other man's turn to snort, flicking his ponytail over his shoulder. "You haven't aged, Cale. The others will mistake you for your younger self, trying to mess with their heads. Besides," and with this, he gave the man a mocking grin, "I wouldn't want to put them through the pain of dealing with _two_ Warlords of Darkness."

"Ha! As if seeing your ugly mug would put them at ease!"

His grin only widened, turning back to his vigil over the city. "They won't know it's me."

At his words, Cale gave the blonde a thorough look, dark eyes searching for a flaw to his claim, but found none. He had grown in the twelve years since the first demon wave. And it wasn't just his signature haircut that had changed.

_They won't recognize him. If he plays his part right, they won't suspect a thing._

"What about the chibi?"

There was no reply. Cale's eyebrows scrunched down into a scowl. "You're not even going to say goodbye?"

The silence continued, though the air was anything but quiet. It thickened with the man's torn emotions. His eyes, however, remained the steeled hue of resolve.

He couldn't say it. He couldn't _see_ her to go say it. He'd lose his nerve if he did.

"She'll be upset," Cale reminded him.

"I know."

Another pause, then… "Right. I understand."

"Take care of her," was all he said as he got ready to leave, pulling the shoulder strap of his bag over his head and securing his grandfather's sword at his waist.

"I will." He watched as the last of the legendary Ronin warriors donned his sub armor, perhaps for the last time. "And Sage."

The man turned, instinct reacting quickly to catch the armor orb Cale had thrown at him. He gazed at the dark marble for a second before turning back to his former enemy. A confident smirk was painted on his tanned face. "It's been fun. I wish you the best of luck, my friend."

After a moment spent gazing back at him, studying his features, keeping them fresh in his memory, Sage nodded his sentiment, and leaped down from the building.

Author's Note:

^^;; I suspect that some of you might be angry with me, starting a new fic and all when I should be working on _RWU_. But I just _had_ to write this. -_- So it'd stop jumping around in my head and _interfering_ with my other work. ^^;; Don't worry! It's not an epic. So I might actually finish this one! Ahh! My first completed fic. Oh how I dream…

On a more educational note, the Tocho (or Tokyo Metropolitan Government Office) is a real building in West Shinjuku. If any of you have watched _Message_, the building Suzunagi first appears on is the Tocho. 

Leave a review!! Even if it _is_ to tell me to start working on _RWU_. ^^;;


	2. Heralds of God

It was a crazy idea, that much I'll admit. But 'crazy' was what had gotten us this far. 

I guess we were always like this. My friends and I… Living a gambler's life. Entering each battle with reckless abandonment. As if each breath would be our last. And we wouldn't throw it away. 

No. We wouldn't waste it.

That's what had always set us apart from the warlords. We were too idealistic. Too much like kids playing the hero. And though I've matured some these past twelve years, there's a part of me that has never really grown up. A naïve, stubborn side that still believes in valor and principle, honor and happy endings.

That's why I can still believe in an impossible dream. That's why I can throw my heart into this hopeless gamble for that slim chance that everything will turn out alright in the end.

…I'm really not that strong. Though a Ronin, I'm still only human. It's amazing what kind of fronts I'll put up to save face, even to myself…

I'm not that strong. 

I'm still only human. 

But I'll carry out his plan. 

I'll put all my energy into it until I can't breathe any longer…

~~~~~~

Sabel

Chapter 1: Heralds of God

By Little Ucchan

~~~~~~****

It was mid evening by the time he arrived at the nearest Dynasty gates, though it was hard to tell time in a city no longer within the sun's reach.

Sage dropped down to the street level and approached the skyscraper-high gateway to the Nether realm, remembering a time long ago when he had approached these same gates. It still held that menacing sense of foreboding, the final barrier between himself and the dangers to come. 

Sage willed away his sub armor, both his and Cale's armor orbs now resting in his open palm. For a moment, he hesitated, staring into the depths of each orb to see the characters of 'wisdom' and 'obedience' flash in front of him. And with it came the memories of the last twelve years.

The swarms of demons. The 'Heralds of God.' The battles. The destruction. And the deaths. The deaths of everyone he'd ever loved and cared for. Ryo… Cye… Sekhmet… Dais—He stopped the list there. Again his memories tried to throw him into an endless well of despondency and again he forced it down into the depths of his soul. This wasn't the time to reminisce. 

Taking a deep breath, Sage closed his hand around the orbs and looked up towards the heavens. "Kayura," he said. "If this doesn't work… you're the _first_ person I'm going to see when I enter the afterlife."

He smirked, content that if she had heard him she'd be sputtering indignantly at the threat.

With that thought in mind, Sage closed his eyes and concentrated.

"Power of nine that binds my soul to thee… Take me back to the place where this all began."

He touched the gate with his free hand. Felt the power of the ancient's staff. And the next thing he knew, he was within the Nether realm standing in the middle of Talpa's throne room, right where Kayura had said he'd be transported. 

Sage pocketed the armor orbs and cast a quick glance around the room. Empty. The only movement came from the ethereal flames that forever burned on either side of the Demon Emperor's throne. Other than that, the world was silent. 

With swift, long strides, he cleared the distance between himself and the throne, working as quickly as he dared. Circling around the back of the throne, Sage positioned himself near the base of the large, metal-laden seat, and with his weight fully pressed against the backrest, pushed forward. 

The throne didn't give way for a few taunt seconds, but then the metal began to creek against the polished wooden floor, and within the minute he began his task, the throne neared the edge of the platform it was perched upon.

Sage dusted his hands against one another, crouching down near the area the throne had previously concealed. The wood was pale, more worn than the rest. He tapped the floorboards with his knuckles. It rang hollow underneath. 

He had time for a quick smirk before he took in breath and drove his fist through the floorboards. The wood easily broke away, pieces of splintered wood falling down a narrow shaft. 

Sage whistled, rubbing his knuckles as he stared down the length of the shaft, only able to estimate the distance 30 feet down before darkness swallowed the rest of it. He worked at pulling away more boards till the hole was sizeable enough for him to drop down, then pulled out a flare from his shoulder bag. 

The red baton plummeted down the shaft. 30 feet. 50 feet. 70. 90. He lost it after 100. 

Sage cursed under his breath. He couldn't risk the jump without his sub armor or he'd end up breaking his leg on the landing. 

He sat himself against the back of the throne, head leaning heavily against the iron surface. If he used his sub armor, they'd know he was there. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Sage resisted the urge to shudder at the presence that suddenly entered the room. Angel. 

He never got used to the feel of having a messenger of God at his backside. It was like having Death for a shadow; his skin grew cold whenever he felt them near. Their power rolled over him, tasted him, caressed his soul with the barest of touches. He never needed to see them to know that they were there. Lucky for him, the same couldn't be said about them.

Sage evened out his breath, silently taking in air. There was only one Angel in the throne room. But whether it was Gabriel or not… 

He closed his eyes. No. Not Gabriel. This one wasn't as old. A novice. He still had a chance. 

His fingers softly reached for the side pocket of his bag, pulling out two metal half-spheres. Each was imbedded with a glass orb, the power stored within it swirling peacefully to itself. Mini detonators created through the unison of magic and technology; one of Rowen's last projects. 

He placed one bomb against the back of the throne, the other along the inside wall of the shaft, and without looking back jumped down the hole. 

Immediately, he felt the air shift. The movement of godly wings echoed through the chasm, drowning out the roar of air around him. The Angel had felt him move. But he didn't look up. 

The bombs went off right above him, rocking the frail construction of the shaft with a deafening bang. He no longer heard the beat of giant wings, only the resonating sound of wood and stone collapsing within itself. 

Sage pulled out his orb and transformed into his sub armor, freefalling for another 50 feet till the light from his flare came into view. His armor-clad feet barely touched the gravel floor before he launched himself into the tunnel at the base of the shaft, narrowly avoiding a mesh of wood and rocks from crushing him underneath.

The ground shook from the impact, but Sage didn't slow down nor did he look back to see if the unidentified Angel was buried beneath all that debris or circling above in agitation. He simply didn't have the time. 

They knew he was there. He had to use every second he had. 

Kicking down the door at the end of the tunnel, Sage barreled into the room, slowly down for a moment of awe. 

Nine torches adorned the circular room, each evenly spaced along the walls and positioned over its respective armor orb. Yes, all seven orbs laid hovering in waiting atop their own pedestals made of wood, metal, and stone. A nine pointed star framed within a magical circle carved the floor, connecting each armor to its centerpiece: the Ancient's Staff. It floated above its own pedestal, lower than the rest, barely reaching his midsection. 

"So it's all here," he breathed, then shook away his stupor. Time was ticking. 

Sage stripped away his sub armor, holding both his and Cale's armor orbs in either hand and placed them on their proper altars. Finally everything was in place. 

"What a surprise."

Sage froze. All of his nerves instantly turned to ice the second he heard that voice. 

Gabriel.

He carefully fingered the clasp on the underside of his left wrist and slowly turned around. It wouldn't do to make any sudden movements while his back was to an Archangel. 

At 6' 1" Gabriel came a few inches above Sage's height and had a more slender build to his frame compared to the Ronin's own. But body mass was an ill measurement tool when comparing a human to the divine. 

Hair color was the indication of an Archangel's strength. The paler the color, the more power they held. And Gabriel was as powerful as they could get. 

His hair at one point was a rich ebony blue, a tint of its former color only revealing itself in the dimmest of lights. But without it, his hair was stripped of all color, strands so long they brushed against his shins. The only thing keeping the locks neatly in place was a ribbon tied halfway down his back. 

Yes, he was one of the strongest; part of the highest order of the divine. And he had been sent down from heaven to kill Sage. 

Author's Note:

Okay, one minor note before anyone is allowed the bash in my head. I know I was being unfairly vague on my last author note in RWU so let me explain my situation. 

I'm attending an art school, majoring in animation. It's a rather small field compared to being a biology major, for example, so I'm aware that not many people know what it actually means to be an animation major. Granted my curriculum doesn't speak for every school that has this major, let's just assume in this analogy, it does. 

Yes, I don't do hardcore studying, and yes I only have four classes a week and I bunch them together into two straight days of work, so yes, I have a five-day weekend every week. BUT, my classes are 4 hours long, I go through 405 traffic to get to school (anyone from LA will know _exactly_ what I mean), and I draw every week. FULL 18 by 24 backgrounds every week. And that's just my structural drawing class. I do digital work in Adobe Illustrator (anyone familiar with the program, raise your hands if you agree coloring mesh grids are a pain in the ass), and design work in my Typography class. (Note: the word 'design' is actually more deadly than anyone realizes. It includes positioning of objects for a composition, size and color relation, using contrast for a focal point, and leading your viewer around the whole piece in one fluid motion without giving them a freakin' headache.) The majority of my time is spent working and perfecting a piece of work for presentation and review, and in my case, I put in extra hours to attend workshops and see my instructors and associates. I have no social life. All of my closest friends are out of state and the two that are within driving distance are extremely busy, as is any college student. My only time to relax is with my family and at school. The rest of my week is spent doing homework and meeting deadlines. I'm forever behind schedule, no matter how well I plan and right now, I have a challenge from my structural drawing teacher to create an exterior background based on Hindu architecture to complete. My deadline's tomorrow and I haven't painted it yet. 

I guess my only saving grace is that I love every second of what I do. 

Now I don't mean to sound like I'm bitching or that I'm blaming anyone. I'm just a bit frazzled because I've been battling writing and doing my homework on and off for the last five months. I've forsaken homework yesterday and today to get this chapter out, because really, I love doing this too. But I wanted to get the word out to those that read my stuff and notify them of what I do, why I can't write as often, and that I _am_ trying. If only chapters could be written in three hours then I wouldn't be having this problem. ^^;; 

But I am ebbing away at my workload. I have been writing half a page on and off and I was finally able to get this chapter out for Sabel. ^^;; Yes, it's short, but I don't plan to go past 6 pages per chapter on this fic. And I know I haven't described how Sage looks yet, but I have that planned for a certain part of the story. ^_^ If you want, there's a character sketch in my diary of Sage. ^^;; He's a cross between Kobayashi and Wufei but I had to do something drastic for a 29 year old. 

And that's my spiel for now. How do you guys like Gabriel? ^^;; Yeah, he didn't do anything so I'll save that question for later. =P And please, for people that jump the gun, I'm not bashing religion, just using its mystical properties as the basis for my story. Just like Shintoism or Buddhism, the use of Egyptian or Greek gods and deities, I'm drawing references from the culture and placing a spin on it. I'm _not_ rewriting the doctrine of Christianity.

That being said ::hands Panthera the rubber mallet:: Bash away. ^^;;


	3. A Mortal Will

**WARNING**: If you get offended easily by language or the use of religious references, DO NOT READ. Also, violence ahead. Though I don't mention blood. ::sweatdrop:: But still, VIOLENCE.

_'What a surprise,' he had said. It's amazing how three words could burn my skin and freeze it over all in one moment._

_Gabriel._

_I loathed and feared him. Loathed because he was responsible for killing my friends and family; feared because he had the power to do it again, that and so much more._

_My hands started to clam up as I turned to face him. I brushed my fingers against the clasp concealed underneath my cuff sleeve, feeling the cold metal beneath my skin, letting the weight of the gun strapped to my forearm bring me back to reality. I couldn't let my emotions get the better of me this time. I couldn't let the history between us dislodge my focus. And most importantly, I couldn't let Gabriel know I had a weapon that could kill him practically sitting in my supposed empty hands._

_If he got wind of it, he'd tear my arm out before I could draw the gun. If I didn't manage to kill him, I wouldn't be needing that arm._

_With those two realities seared into my mind, I faced my greatest adversary and smiled._

_It was the bravest thing I had ever done._

****

Sabel

Chapter 2: A Mortal Will

By Little Ucchan

****

Gabriel stood on one side of the room with the only exit at his back and a mere few yards separating himself from his prey. He could taste victory in the air. It made his lips curl up into a smile.

"I never thought you would come to me willingly," Gabriel chided, shoulders shaking with mirth. "Have you finally changed your mind about me?"

Sage produced a smile of his own. "No. I still want to cut off your head with my nodachi."

The Archangel shook his head, chuckling some more. "Such violence, Sage. It's hard to believe that you are one of mankind's fabled heroes."

"Even harder for me to believe that you're one of mankind's supposed saviors." Sage raised his arm and the clasp gave way, the gun hidden up his coat sleeve sliding down the length of his arm straight into his waiting hand. He leveled the barrel at the Archangel's chest before another word was said. "You've failed my expectations, Gabriel."

"As you have mine," Gabriel countered, eyes glistening with humor. He shook his head again. "A gun, Sage? I always pegged you for a traditionalist."

"These kill faster."

"Demons, you mean?"

"Archangels."

Gabriel's lips twitched. "You are bluffing. Bullets cannot kill us."

"How about bullets fused with enough spiritual energy to shatter a soul?"

The smile disappeared. "I see… Rowen has been busy these days," he mused. "I had assumed he would be here to see how well his new toy held up on the battlefield." Gabriel glanced about, as if to find the archer hiding nearby. "Where _is_ our resident genius?"

"You know where he is."

"Oh, right." The Archangel smirked. "Such a level headed man… to be suicidal."

Sage tightened his grip on the gun. "You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that."

"Language," he laughed. "You're in the presence of the divine."

"Divine my ass."

Gabriel laughed some more. "So amusing."

"You don't believe me?"

"On the contrary. I do believe you. What I do not believe is the reliability of that experimental weapon."

Sage cocked the piece and aimed for Gabriel's head. "Then let's try it. Let's see if you get up once I put a bullet through your head."

"Come now, Sage." Gabriel smirked. "Do you really think you can hit me with that?"

A push of air, subtle as someone's whispered breath, brushed by the base of Sage's neck. "I'll be gone before you can pull the trigger."

Sage kept the gun leveled at the Archangel in front of him. "I'm not falling for it Gabriel. Mind tricks don't work on me."

"Oh?" the voice behind him asked, then disappeared. "Are you sure you have not already fallen for it?"

Sage twitched.

"You are not certain anymore," Gabriel stated, this time his voice coming from above. "You see me in front of you… but you do not know if that is really me. Or if…" The voice faded out. "I've been standing behind you all…"

A push of air.

"…this…"

A whispered breath.

"…time."

A pair of hands skimming his shoulders.

Sage spun around and froze. Gabriel wasn't there.

Sage threw his arm behind him and fired, but Gabriel was already on him. His shot went wild as he was slammed onto the floor, the impact leaving him dazed until the shocking pain of the gun's metal brace being crushed against his arm brought him back to reality. Sage screamed as bones were broken, his entire right arm in pain.

"Well, now this was unexpected." Gabriel had straddled his waist and now had his other arm pinned against his back. He smiled as he leaned in closer to Sage's face, putting more pressure on his arm and shoulder. "I imagined our final confrontation to be more… grand."

Sage gritted his teeth and tried to move, but Gabriel's weight stopped him from succeeding. He bit his tongue as the pain in his shoulder intensified.

"What's wrong, Sage? Didn't think you could be taken so easily?" Gabriel frowned. "You are a fool to believe that you could stand up to me without your armor."

"Better a fool than God's bitch."

Sage's head was slammed against the ground before he realized it, pain exploding throughout his entire brain and making his eyes burn. Within another second, his wrist was snapped, his shoulder dislocated, and his lungs robbed of its air when Gabriel kicked him in the stomach, sending him crashing against the stone pillar at the center of the room.

The Archangel towered above him, his face hidden by the light but the anger clearly visible. "Do not _ever_ speak about Him that way again, mortal!! You have no way of understanding what He is trying to accomplish!! He is trying to save this world!! The world that _you_ love so much!!"

Sage slowly propped his back against the pillar with his right arm. He felt the bones were fractured, but still useful. "How? By casting it further into darkness?" He scoffed. "To save the world or to destroy it, I don't care what he's trying to accomplish. What there is to gain will never be able to justify what we've lost."

"That is the curse of all mortals." Gabriel knelt in front of Sage, placing his hand in front of the Ronin's forehead. "You are not able to see beyond what is in front of you."

Sage smirked. "So, you'll be my guide?"

Gabriel hesitated.

Sage's smile broadened. "Then fine. ...Take me back."

Gabriel got up with a start as the pillars started to glow, lighting up the magic circle on the floor. The stale air of the chamber began to pick up and cleanse itself, turning into a strong wind that howled through the entire chamber.

Gabriel gritted his teeth and turned to Sage, who still had that smile on his face, and who also had his right hand pressed against the pillar.

His eyes widened. "No!!"

"To the place where this all began!"

The room exploded in a flash of light so strong that Gabriel had to shield his eyes and close his mind to the intense energy that washed over him. But as soon as it reached its peak, it collapsed onto itself, and the light vanished.

The room was dark. The dust was starting to settle itself. And the only one left in the room was Gabriel.

He stared at the spot he last saw Sage, imagining his pitiful state and triumphant smile staring back at him. Gabriel sighed, the corner of his lips curling up in an exasperated smile.

"You fool."

Author's Note:

Short and sweet. I really am stupid enough to take on multiple projects at the same time. And I am rewriting RWU so I can move forward with the plot. ;; Before anyone kills me, the original will still be up. I just need to work the plot tighter so I don't run into these roadblocks that keep popping up everywhere. If you want to kill me, or mock kill me, leave a review, and if you really want to rant and rave at me, email me . Until next time!!


	4. Man in Question

**WARNING**: If you get offended easily by language or the use of religious references, DO NOT READ. Also, descriptive... maiming, sort of. What do you say when you're trying to give warning of descriptions of injury? It's not exactly _violence_ as it is a result of violence... I give up. Really. Stupid censorship.

_When I came to, it was dark. Blissfully so. It felt like I had my eyes closed. Or had I never opened them?_

_My left arm was numb. I count this as a blessing. I'd rather not be reminded how it feels like to have my ligaments torn. My right arm lay limp by my side. I could still twitch my fingers. It was amusing to see, actually. But I've lost too much blood to do any more than that._

_The first time I had moved it was painful. A torn piece of metal had dug itself into my skin. I'm sure it got between the two bones in my forearm. Makes me want to move it even less._

_I know a few of my ribs were broken. Gabriel's not weak enough to do any less. Though it was a miracle that none of them punctured my lungs._

_A miracle… Heh. A miracle from God that I didn't get killed by one of his Angels only to die here alone. It was a strong possibility that I wouldn't make it. I could rupture an organ if I got up. And even if I managed that, I didn't have the strength to break out of this catacomb of a room. And no one knew I was here. Fancy that. No rescue team._

_I let out a quiet sigh, savoring the feel of cool stone against my skin, content with hearing my breathing and mine alone._

_I was tired. I didn't want to move. I should worry, actually… But it didn't bother me. Dying here…_

_It didn't bother me at all._

Sabel

Chapter 3: Man in Question

By Little Ucchan

"How is he?"

Dais looked up in his chair, then cast a glance into the next room. "Unconscious. But alive."

Kayura sighed. "Good. I had feared for the worse. The extent of those injuries…"

"Mm. If we had found him any later than when we did, we'd be tending to a corpse instead of a wounded man. Though…" Dais gazed at the adjacent room again, the position of his chair giving him a perfect view of the mysterious man lying in bed. "I wouldn't be so quick as to call that fortunate."

"Dais!" Kayura cried. "How can you so easily say that about a man who had narrowly escaped death?"

"I don't mean to be callous," he explained. "But how did such a man come across those injuries? An even better question is how he ended up in that hidden room within our walls? Under these circumstances, I feel it's better to err on the side of caution. We do not know his reasons for being here."

"Ah," Kayura murmured, feeling chastised. "How foolish of me."

Dais softened his expression. "You are still young, Kayura. Think that a blessing that your heart does not easily worry. I, however, have seen too many things in my day to have such an open nature."

"Still, I think he's alright. And I'm not just siding with him because he's wounded."

"Oh?" Dais raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you siding with him?"

"Because…" she said, remembering when they had first found him, lying in a crumbled heap in that strange, sealed room. "Because…"

The upturn of his lips. That sense of joy in his eyes, gazing at her.

"He looked at me kindly."

* * *

"I don't like this. Of all the things…"

"You're the one who's always itching for something to happen. Now when it finally does, you're dissatisfied."

"I was hoping for a border skirmish, or an assassination attempt or something," Cale replied, sifting through the belongings on the table with more irritation. "Not some guy popping up in the castle. And Kayura! How she devotes all her time tending to him!"

"So, you don't trust him?"

"Of course not!" Cale cried, slamming his palms flat against the table. "And, frankly, I don't see how you can."

Sekhmet glanced at him from across the table, their eyes locking for a brief battle before he lost interest and focused on the items on the table. "Forgive me for not formulating opinions about a man I've only seen unconscious."

Cale dropped his head and sighed. "You're a nuisance."

"Likewise."

Cale growled, and continued on their task, picking up a strange metal device with an orb embedded in its center. "What do you suppose half this stuff is?"

He was fiddling with the knobs on the side when Sekhmet looked up. "Stop messing with that and just look for something that can tell us who he is."

"Tch." Cale set the object down and picked up the sword that had come with the bag, hefting it in his hand before unsheathing the blade. "Nice make." He sighted down the blade, then re-sheathed it, careful when setting it down on the table. "You think he's any good?"

Sekhmet was one breath short of snapping at him. "I don't know," he said, picking up a bundle of some sort, unwrapping the cloth. "I suppose you can ask him yourself when he wakes up."

"If he is any good, I kinda hope he turns out to be an enemy."

_A book._ He turned it around, noting no title written on it, then rolled his eyes at Cale's comment. "You have a perverse idea of fun," Sekhmet said as he opened the cover. "Ever since you lost Halo as an opponent—"

A photo slipped out of the front page.

Sekhmet stared at it for a moment, picking it up to hold it closer to his face. _What the hell?_

"Cale! Sekhmet!"

Cale cleaned out his ear, glaring at the doorframe. "We're right here, Dais. No need to yell."

Dais took in breath. He had ran all the way there. "He's awake," he announced.

Cale's eyes widened. "What! Already?"

"Yeah. Kayura's with him right now."

"You left her with him! Are you out of your mind?"

Dais frowned, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't like it either, but she kicked me out."

"Geez," Cale scratched his head in irritation. "That girl… Hey Sekhmet!" Sekhmet tore his gaze away from the photo. "Let's get going. We can do this later."

"Mn." He slipped the photo beneath his keikogi and followed.

* * *

Kayura sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, trying not to lean forward as she watched the man raise the bowl towards him. It was the fourth time he had tried, and each time, he had to lower his arm, the pain preventing him from straining it for too long.

Her hands sat on her lap, clenching the fabric of her kimono as a nervous habit. When he looked as if he could not carry out a fifth attempt, she opened her mouth. "Are you sure you don't need my help? Your wounds…"

"Heh." He smiled, the simple gesture making her lose her nerve. "That's kind of you. And I appreciate it, but…" He looked down at the tray of food sitting on his lap, a determined frown crossing his lips. "I have to do this. I must recover as quickly as possible."

"Then let me—"

"No." He shook his head. "I don't want you to waste any more energy on me."

"But," she blinked back her shock. "How did you know I was the one that healed you?"

Again, that gentle smile. "Intuition, I suppose."

"Ah," she let it go at that, content, for now, in watching him try to eat. He was stubborn. And she rarely tolerated injured men being stubborn with her. But she let him be. Something about his type of stubbornness was endearing. Maybe it was the way he spoke to her. The humility in his voice; the genuine gratitude that was there. She couldn't help but admire his efforts.

He picked up the bowl again, staring at his own reflection in the broth for a moment before raising it towards him once again. Kayura saw him wince halfway, but this time, he bore the pain and brought the rim to his lips, sipping it into his mouth.

"Delicious," he said after a moment and set the bowl down. "Absolutely delicious. Did you make this yourself?"

Kayura gave a humble nod, blushing slightly. "It's nothing special. Just simple miso soup really."

"I think you belittle your skills." And with that, he raised the bowl to her in a toast before drinking from it again, this time more eagerly, finding new strength with every gulp. "Ah!" He set the bowl down on the tray and laughed. "But then again, it's been a while since I've had a decent meal. So forgive me if I'm giving you too much praise."

"Oh, that's fine." She offered him a smile. "Please, continue eating."

"I will! Thank you!"

Kayura was amazed at how quickly he was to recover. With every bite of food, it seemed his strength had returned tenfold, and soon, he was maneuvering his chopsticks without the jerky movements he had before. She doubted the pain had gone away. He had simply chosen to ignore it, and how strong his will must have been to ignore such wounds!

She sat back in her seat, in awe at this stranger that had suddenly appeared in their home. There was so much that she wanted to ask him. So many questions, like what he was doing in the Nether realm, and where he had received those wounds. They were so fresh, he must have just come out of a battle. But how he got into that room was a mystery to her. Sekhmet had to burn a hole through the floor with his swords in order to reach the chamber itself, and the only door in and out of that room was rusted shut.

Kayura decided to hold all of her inquiries for later, taking this opportunity to study him. His dirty blonde hair, which had been kept in a ponytail, was now down, falling just below his shoulders, framing the long face of an older man. Not as slender as Dais' but of some similarity. And rough and a bit rebellious, like Cale's. Still, he was much older than the both of them, physically. From what she could guess, he looked to be pushing thirty. But what struck her the most was his eyes; a pale, almost crystalline purple hue that conveyed so much. She had a feeling those same eyes, however, could hide many secrets.

"Am I that fascinating?"

Kayura started, then looked away. "No. I mean… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

"It's alright. Actually," he chuckled, "It's quite comforting."

"Comforting?"

"Mm-hm."

"To have a perfect stranger stare at you?"

He paused. A flicker of some emotion passed by those beautiful eyes, but Kayura wasn't able to decipher it. He smiled again, charmed. "Yes. It is."

She was certain now that she was blushing, and asked if he wanted more food to distract herself.

He held out his bowl, his face beaming at the prospect. "Miso soup would be nice."

* * *

Kayura held the tray of empty plates between her waist and hand, reaching with her free one to close to the door behind her. The warlords were waiting for her in the hall.

"Well?" Cale asked, impatient as always.

"He's doing fine. Voracious appetite that I've ever seen, as if he's been half starved for years. But he's recovering quickly. The food is helping."

"Is that all? You don't have a name? Where he's from? Anything?"

Kayura frowned. "I hadn't asked."

Cale breathed in air through his teeth, biting back a curse before moving past Kayura for the door. Kayura, unfortunately, moved with him.

Her back slammed against the door, blocking him from reaching the handle or sliding it open. Not that it would stop him. Her weight was not enough to stop a 220 pound warlord from opening a damn door. But she hoped that he wouldn't try with her there anyway.

"Kayura," Cale warned, resisting the urge to cross his arms right in front of her.

"There is no proof that he is either friend or foe," Kayura said firmly. "We should treat him as neither."

"So you say!"

Kayura glared. "I am simply caring for the injured. He has every right to receive treatment for his wounds, and until he is better, I will give him my attention. But that does not mean that I will side with him on anything else." She was glad that Dais didn't take that opportunity to mention their previous conversation. It wouldn't help her win her argument with Cale.

"Fine," Cale conceded but did not back away. "But _we_ still have a job to do. He's neutral till we have proof of his identity and his reasons for being here, and we can't get that until we talk to him. Now, as his nursemaid, are you going to stop us from protecting this castle and the people in it?"

Kayura slumped her chin a little. He had her there.

"Kayura is not going to stop us from doing our job as the protectors of this castle," Sekhmet stepped in, approaching the both of them.

"Thank you," Cale said.

"But she's not going to let you in either."

"What!"

"That's why I'm going to go in instead." He nodded to Kayura. "Will this be alright, My Lady?" Kayura looked up at the other man, deciding for a moment what to do, before quietly nodding and stepping aside.

"Hold it." This time it was Cale holding the door closed. He looked to Sekhmet, pissed. "You're not going in there."

"I'm the better candidate."

"You're _biased_."

"Less than you."

Dais signed, tired of watching them bicker. "Cale, let him pass."

"No way. He won't ask the right questions."

"And neither will you," Dais said. "That man doesn't know that Kayura is the ruler of our realm. Let Sekhmet act as a representative of the governing authority and leave an impression, and then we'll see where it goes from there."

He still held his ground.

"Cale, any idiot can pick up on your intentions right now. If you go in there hostile, he'll close up, and we'll lose our opportunity to learn anything. Sekhmet is the closest we can get to neutral among the four of us."

After a moment, Cale snapped his hand away from the door handle. "God damn it, I hate it when you're right!" He crossed his arms over his broad chest as Sekhmet pushed the sliding door open. "Just don't forget anything," he growled.

"I'll remember to get his name and phone number for you."

Cale almost kicked him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
My God, this one a day thing is actually working? Go figure.

Ah, warlord/future Sage interaction, sort of. Anyone else thought Cale was going to blow up the room with that mini detonator he was so casually playing with? I'm sure Sekhmet would have been pleased. I love writing about the warlords, btw. It's because I don't do it that often.

Oh, and here's something I just want to bring up out of spite. But anyone got the advertisement bar for _True_ while reading fanfics on the side of your screen with the big breasted woman showing a lot of cleavage and licking her lips? Cause if they're griping about under aged readers reading stuff they shouldn't, then they shouldn't advertise shit like that for money. It's not becoming. But then again, I can't really expect much from the internet.

Now, to address some people who'd **love** to kill me:

Let us take a moment to worship Ginzai and embarrass her a bit because I love her YST fics, but am too shy to tell her. Any Seiji/Sage or Cale/Anubisu fan should read _Darkness Bind Them_ and praise her so much that she'll continue writing it again, (I hope.) Oh! And the real point of this is that I'm honored she likes _Sabel_. ) Thank you Ginzai!

Ebben, I'm dropping the rewrite for RWU for now because I realized that if I had continued on, I would have rewritten EVERTHING, instead of just cleaning house (sweatdrop), which was not really what I had planned to do. But I'm posting soon. (looks to Panthera). Yup. I'm definitely posting a new RWU chapter soon. (waves nervously to Panthera). You know you're my favorite fan… right?

And for Mystic's question, you can view it as the Christian apocalypse; I'm sure it would also seem that way to the survivors in the fic, but for me, I'm using the term Armageddon loosely. To describe what I am doing is more along the lines of borrowing the mythical properties of the Christian religion for my own purposes, but I am not following the outline described in the Bible about the Second Coming. I felt it would take away from the story's focus if I added that kind of detail in. This is a Sage-centered fic, after all. (smile)


	5. Snapshot

**WARNING**: If you get offended easily by language or the use of religious references, DO NOT READ. Sage torture ahead. (smile)

* * *

_Their voices had reached my ears. Muffled, but clear at the same time. I could make out each one as if I were looking directly at them. _

_Cale's__ sharp tongue._

_Sekhmet's__ flat voice._

_Dais' diplomatic speech._

_Kayura's__ soft undertones._

_The exact words of their discussion remained hidden from me, but I didn't care. Having them near caused a pain in my chest that was no way related to my broken ribs, and I felt my throat grow tight. _

_I swallowed and strained to both block them out and hear them. It took enough of my energy to stop myself from smiling so much in Kayura's presence; took so much not to embrace her then and there. But now that the others are near, I want to become lost in the sound of their voices. _

_It brought so much pain to the surface that I felt I would break if this continued any longer. _

_I was safe. I was home. And it only reminded me of how alone I was._

_I closed my eyes, and forced myself to meditate; forced myself to close my mind and find peace. I did not know if it would work. For the last few years, meditation had stopped working for me. My mind was not strong enough to block all that I have seen. And after a while, I didn't want to block them out anymore. _

_But now I needed to. Needed to so desperately because knowing my comrades were just beyond that door felt worse than seeing them killed. Having them torn away from my life had made me stop feeling. But now my heart pulsed with new life and bled with old pains. _

_I took a deep breath. I remembered shuddering under the weight of all of my emotions. And when I was calm, I opened my eyes only to see him standing in the doorway, watching me from afar. _

_It was too soon. I had schooled my features fast enough, but part of my surprise had shown through. As to what else he had seen, I wasn't sure. Sekhmet was always good at revealing nothing. _

Sabel

Chapter 4: Snapshot

By Little Ucchan

They had stared at each other for a long time. Sekhmet didn't know what to do, which was a surprise to him. He had planned to go in, ask a few questions and leave. If he decided to be difficult, Sekhmet would simply find a way to coax the information out of him. It's how he was. It's what his fellow warlords were counting on.

But when he had walked in, what he saw left him standing in the doorframe between the antechamber and the guestroom, for once uncertain of his course of action. He couldn't classify what he saw in the man's eyes, but it was real and familiar, striking a pang in his own heart, a pain he hadn't felt for many years.

_Is this what Kayura saw in him?_ he wondered. _Is this why she cannot help but care for him?_

The man coughed slightly. "I don't believe we've met," he said.

The words were polite, with the right mix of modesty to disarm anyone. But Sekhmet had heard something else; a tightness in the man's throat that immediately told him something was wrong.

"We haven't." He introduced himself. "My name is Sekhmet."

"…Sabel."

"Sabel," he repeated the name again. "Is that your first or your last name?"

"Both."

"So in other words that's not your real name."

"Is Sekhmet your real name?"

Sekhmet kept his face neutral, but mentally he frowned at the reversal question. Whoever this man was, he was sharp. Already he was onto what Sekhmet was trying to do and acting accordingly.

He decided to try a different approach. "Yes and no. My birth name is Naotoki Yamanouchi. But I haven't been called by that in over 400 years, so I don't consider it my name anymore."

Sabel didn't respond, but Sekhmet knew he had gotten to him, his sudden bout of honesty throwing off the casual façade. He sensed that the man had wanted to say something, an answer that was equivalent to his own. But something else held him back. Again, he switched tactics.

Sekhmet stepped up to the side of the bed and pulled out the photo he had kept in his sleeve. Flipping it over, he waited for Sabel's reaction.

The man's face grew stoic. Even his eyes held nothing as he gazed at the picture, knowing what game he was trying to play. But Sekhmet was quicker than that. When he removed the picture from his keikogi, before he had even shown whose photo was on the reverse side, he saw Sabel react.

It was a rush he never thought was possible to pass by so quickly on a man's face. Anger. Pride. Grief. Longing. And then, a stubbornness to hide it all away. To forget that the emotions ever existed.

The thought troubled him. "When was this picture taken?"

No answer.

Sekhmet let the photo linger, waiting till he was sure that Sabel would say nothing. He then pulled up the chair that Kayura had been sitting on, and, facing it backwards, straddled the seat. He laid his arms over the backrest, making himself relax as much as possible, and studied the picture himself.

It was a group photo. Five people in all; six if you counted the infant. The proud mother was seated off to the left in the picture, the tips of her short reddish brown hair curling around her cheeks, framing a gentle face. She wore a light blue summer dress, faded from overuse, with a rich black trench coat too big to be hers draped over her shoulders. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green and seemed to shine, even in the still image, as she cradled the newborn in her arms.

Standing behind her was a tall, dark blonde man sporting a ponytail and a five o'clock shadow. He wore a sweater over a dark green work shirt, the collar sticking out around his neck, and slacks. His hands were resting protectively on the woman's shoulders and he had an awkward smile on his face, like he couldn't decide to be happy or confused so was both.

Next to him, in the center of the picture, was a taller, leaner man of roughly the same age. It seemed he was drawn into the photo at the last minute, for he was wearing a mechanic's work suit and had a smudge of grease on bridge of his nose and across his left cheek. He had an arm on the blonde man's shoulder and the other wrapped around a petite younger woman, who wasn't that appreciative of the grease stains on his clothes.

She was looking disapprovingly at the man holding her, but had a slight smirk on her face, showing she really didn't mind. She was wearing a tank top over khakis, and her long, raven black hair, her trademark feature, was cut shorter and pulled into a high ponytail.

The final man in the picture hadn't shaved for the occasion, and his hair was in a disheveled state of chaos. He wore a muscle shirt and black jeans, and the tattoo of what looked like a wolf peeked out from underneath his right sleeve. Scars from old war wounds covered his tanned skin, and the way he stood showed he was proud of them. As was expected of the former Warlord of Darkness.

Sekhmet knew the two on the right were Kayura and Cale. And he recognized the man on the far left to be Sabel. But the other two he wasn't certain. The man in the middle had briefly reminded him of Strata, but his hair was lighter and his features too old to be the man he thought it was.

Sekhmet blew out air through his nostrils, staring at the picture again. It was a modern photo, meaning it had to have been taken within the last two years. But never before had he seen Kayura's hair that short or the tattoo that was carved into Cale's right bicep. In fact, he didn't recognize anything else in the photo other than his comrades' faces.

He looked at the Sabel in the picture, noting how young he looked; how happy. He shifted his gaze to the woman Sabel was standing behind, and unwittingly smiled. "You looked less tired then."

"I think I was."

Sekhmet looked up from the photo. Sabel's head was turned away, looking down at the sheets. But there was a slight upturn of his lips. The same expression Sekhmet had, as if he were looking at the woman in the photo as well.

"Is she your…?" He held up his pinky.

Sabel nodded.

"And the child?"

Another nod.

"Ah." Sekhmet looked at the picture again. "She's beautiful. How old is she?"

He didn't answer.

Sekhmet quietly turned the photo over in his hand. The man's answers were that of a widower. He had felt it in the air, and still did. But other than that, he learned nothing else. Another dead end. But he still had one other card up his sleeve.

"Are you going to tell me anything about yourself?" he asked. "Or don't you think you owe us that much?"

"I don't owe you an explanation for anything," Sabel snapped. He hadn't recovered from the memory of the woman in the photo. It was what Sekhmet was counting on as he continued his verbal onslaught.

"Oh? Not even why you're here? Or how you know Kayura and Cale? How about how you got in that room? The one that's been sealed for how many centuries? Or why you almost died trying to reach us?"

Sabel's muscles tightened, his eyes growing cold. Sekhmet had him. Anything he said now would get him angry. Lie or truth, it'd get him angry. "Would you rather I bring Kayura back in? I'm sure the two of you have a lot of catching up to do. Like telling her how you let her best friend die!"

Sabel was out of the bed before Sekhmet was able to get out of his seat. _He's fast!_

The man grabbed him by the front of his keikogi, drew his fist back, and winched. His grip on Sekhmet's collar loosened.

It was enough.

Sekhmet grabbed Sabel's left arm and reached out, his fingers brushing past the man's bangs before he could realized what was going on. Sekhmet's fingertips touched his forehead, and the world around him suddenly disappeared.

* * *

He was in the middle of an empty street. His hand still outstretched, his fingers frozen in mid air. A bead of sweat fell down the side of Sekhmet's face. _Shinjuku…_ He swallowed. _THIS is Shinjuku?_

There was rubble everywhere. The surrounding buildings were cracked and torn. Shattered glass. Leaking gas fluids. Debris the height of first stories cut the landscape apart. It looked the same as during the war. But the air was quieter; the silence having had settled on the city far longer than it should have.

Years. He felt years had passed.

_What happened here?_

Someone ran past him.

Sekhmet turned, eyes widening as the armored figure knelt down next to the edge of a pile of rubble. _It can't be…_

He walked towards him, watched as he got closer how the man pulled some of the stones away, quickly but carefully. His voice was a forced steadiness as he leaned over the woman he was rescuing, letting her wrap her arms around him and kiss him.

Sekhmet stood over them when they pulled away from each other, the woman slumping back onto the floor as the man lifted the slab of concrete that had fallen on her stomach. Sekhmet frowned. Her dress, the same light blue one from the picture, was wet and stained along the side of her abdomen with blood. Her legs, as more rubble was cleared away, were clearly broken. She wouldn't be able to walk.

The woman took in a shallow breath, her chest rising and falling with pained effort. "Baby, I'm sorry," she whispered. Tears were starting to form along her eyelids, sliding down her cheek and leaving a streak of wetness that curled around her face like how her hair did. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I should have listened. I should have stayed."

"Don't worry about it," he said, removing the last piece of debris and tossing it aside. "It's going to be alright. I'll take care of you. Don't worry. It's going to be alright."

She smiled at him, her head rolling to the side, more relaxed with just those words and his presence. Then she looked up past him to where Sekhmet stood and froze.

Her lips shuddered open in horror, wheezing in breath after breath, unable to speak when the man finally noticed and turned around, as did Sekhmet, to see another man standing behind them.

He smiled softly, tilting his head to the side, his long, white hair swaying with the movement. "Hello, Sage," he greeted, and before anyone knew it, he had backhanded the Ronin in the face and sent him flying into the nearest building. The woman screamed.

A cold weight settled in Sekhmet's stomach. He backed away from the man and the power that had suddenly radiated off of him. _What in God's name is he?_

"Gabriel!"

Sekhmet turned at the outcry. Sage was pinned against one of the building walls by two other beings like the one called Gabriel. But both had wings on their backs, pure white wings that flapped with the effort to restrain the man. Both had a hand on either one of the Ronin's wrists and shoulders, and when he charged forward, in unison they slammed him back against the wall. He gave a grunt and blew out air through his nostrils.

Gabriel smirked, then turned to the woman on the floor.

Sage stopped moving. "No…"

Gabriel's smile broadened he crouched down in front of her, his arms resting casually on his bended knees. "I'm sorry," he said. "Does it hurt?"

The woman reared back, her eyes wide as she pushed back with her arms, trying to move away. "G-get back…"

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Sage struggled to break free. "Don't touch her!"

"Don't worry." Gabriel extended his hand out to her, and looked at her the same way Sage had. The same goddamn way. "It's going to be alright. I'll take care of you."

"N-no…" She shook her head from side to side, dragging the lower half of her dead body across the ground. "S-stay away!"

"Leave her alone!"

"Come, my dear…"

_"Stay away from me!" _

"GABRIEL!"

* * *

Sabel shoved Sekhmet away, the connection broken as both men staggered back. Sekhmet tried to keep to his feet, taking a few steps back into the middle of the room before he felt himself grounded once again. Sabel had stumbled to the floor.

His back slammed against the side of the bed, and for a second he cried out in surprise before slumping down against it. He was breathing hard. The bandages on his right arm and torso were newly stained with blood. And tears fell down his face and dripped onto the floor.

The man pulled his legs up and rested his arms on top of his knees. He leaned his head against his folded hands and cried.

Sekhmet breathed in heavily, watching as the tears didn't stop, remembering with each sob what he had witnessed only seconds before.

_That man made him watch… _

He gritted his teeth.

_That man made him watch him kill her._

"Sekhmet!" The door in the other room swung open. Kayura, Dais, and Cale rushed in.

"Sekhmet, what the hell's going on?" Cale demanded.

"We felt your power and—" Dais stopped mid sentence upon seeing the state of the two men in the room. Kayura gasped.

"My God! What happened? He's bleeding again!" She stepped forward towards Sabel, but Sekhmet raised his hand to block her.

"Sekhmet?" Kayura asked. The man was extremely pale.

"I know you won't understand," he said. The three of them exchanged looks. "But please leave."

"You gotta be joking!"

"He's injured! I have to—!"

Dais grabbed both Cale and Kayura by the shoulder, stopping them for saying anything further. "Let's do what he says."

"But Dais!"

"Kayura."

She looked up at the man, seeing how he didn't look at her at all. Instead he gazed at Sekhmet with the kind of disturbed expression that she rarely saw on the Master of Illusions' face. She didn't argue anymore.

"We'll be outside if you need us," Kayura said as the three headed towards the door, she being the last of leave.

Sekhmet turned his head back, caught the worried look in her eyes, and offered her a slight smiled. "Thanks."

She nodded once and departed the guestroom, closing the door softly behind her. The two of them were left alone again.

Sekhmet slowly walked over to Sabel, careful to keep his actions unthreatening and his aura low. He hadn't meant to open a wound that deep. He hadn't thought he'd be right about letting his lover die. He hadn't thought he'd be right about a lot of things.

Sekhmet knelt down in front of him and reached his hand out. Sabel grabbed his hand and pulled it away. He reached out with the other hand and the same thing happened.

"Wait. It's okay."

He extended his hand again and was batted away.

"I'm not going to—"

Sabel pushed him away, and in a moment of frustration Sekhmet grabbed both of his wrists and pulled them away from his face.

"Sage!"

His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and Sekhmet finally saw his eyes. The same eyes he remembered staring into during countless battles past were raw and open. He saw years of war and death and suffering in those violet eyes. And he saw a piece of himself in them as well. And for the first time in 400 years, his heart softened.

Sekhmet pulled him into an embrace. Sage stiffened against him, but the warlord held him firm, lending him his strength and letting him know it was okay to mourn. That it was okay to cry and scream and get angry and feel helpless. He understood. He understood greatly, because he lost someone similar a long time ago.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
Well, that was depressing. Everyone that hates Gabriel, raise their hands. … Yeah. I thought as much.

I was tight lipped when I wrote this. Really, I was, particularly during the flashback. I wanted to get it right and played it over and over in my head before finally getting it down on paper. Hope the Sekhmet/Sage interaction was okay. I had fun, to be honest. (smile) And I love Sekhmet, btw. Cale is my favorite warlord, but I love writing Sekhmet. Tis fun.

Two different updates in one day! Now, Panthera, should I update RWU or should I update Sabel. I'll let you pick since I followed your instructions in the first place.


	6. Promise Among Men

_I don't know how he did it, or why, in the face of anyone else, I would have held up better, hid the truth better than I did with him. Sekhmet had an unbiased honesty about him that I knew existed, but never experienced firsthand until today._

_Until now._

_I felt I had known him for years, when in fact, when he was still alive, we had barely exchanged a word. Never shared a moment that you would call a bonding between friends. We had a keen understanding between us in battle, almost a silent commute that bordered on the side of telepathy. But even that I was not able to explore, for I hadn't had the chance to fight along side him as much as I had fought against him during the Dynasty War. _

_Maybe, the reason why I so easily let down my guard was because we had no personal relationship together. He knew as much about my private life as I did his. I wasn't even aware he had a last name until he told me. _

_Maybe because he died before I got to know him, died in one of the first battles that marked the beginning of our demise, that I was so willing to bear my soul to him now._

_Because I lost that opportunity once before or…_

_…because talking to him was like talking to a stranger who didn't need a background explanation.__ Someone who I shared a common history with, but was not closely tied to me. _

_…Yeah. I think that was it. If it was Kayura, Rowen's lover and my wife's only friend, or Cale, who was still alive and I had left behind… I don't think I would have been able to do it._

_I wouldn't be able to look them in the face as Sage and tell them the truth._

Sabel

Chapter 5: Promise Among Men

By Little Ucchan

They had talked for two hours. Or rather, Sabel had.

Yes, Sabel. He didn't want to be called by his real name while he was here. Understandable, because his identity would have caused more of a stir than what would have been necessary. But Sekhmet believed it was more because, while pretending to be someone else, he was better able to block the pain.

Again, quite understandable, considering.

"Kayura will know," he had said, watching as Sabel sifted through his belongings, scattering them about on the floor to get a better inventory count.

"Is this all of it?"

Sekhmet frowned at his evasiveness, but answered, "Yes. Cale was quite upset with me."

"I can imagine." Sabel reached over to pick up a bulky manila folder, careful in his stretch not to reopen the wounds Sekhmet had taken the time to re-bandage. He set the folder on top of his lap, and turned it over for further inspection before opening it. "The armor of Halo is no longer tied to me. Kayura can't recognize my aura without it."

"I think you are underestimating her."

"You weren't able to sense who I was." Sabel pulled out the stack of papers, looking inside the envelope for a moment before reaching a hand in and pulling out a small, rectangular device sealed in bubble wrap. "Not until you knew what you were looking for. And Kayura doesn't have the ability to see into someone's mind." He pulled off the masking tape and started unwrapping the package. "True, she might find something about me familiar, but beyond that…" Inside was a device that looked similar to one of those 'Game Boys' the boy, Yulie, always carried about. "I don't think she'll find out."

The device was sleek, less bulky in its design compared to the ones the warlord had seen in the mortal realm. He doubted the handheld was used for playing games.

Sekhmet raised an eyebrow when Sabel pulled out what looked to him like a large, metal toothpick from the side of the device and touched the tip to the screen. The monitor glowed to life.

"And Sage?"

Sabel paused, staring at Sekhmet before he realized he had not called him. The blonde chuckled. "Most definitely not, since seeing yourself standing right in front of you will be the last think to cross anyone's mind." Sabel continued to gaze at the monitor, touching the screen with his pen here and there, scrolling through the numerous text and numbers as he spoke. "Rowen, maybe. Since he was my best friend, he might see the similarities. But myself?" Sabel shook his head, slipping the pen back through the side of the device and turning off the monitor. "I'm too narrow minded to consider it. Especially when I was young."

"Narrow minded isn't something I would have used to describe you."

"Defensive then," Sabel corrected good naturedly. "And prideful and hot headed." He smirked, nodding to himself. "Those were normally the three things that stopped me from seeing the truth."

Sekhmet laughed, the first time he's done so in Sabel's presence. "Well I guess your honesty carried over," the warlord commented. "Though I never thought I'd see it directed on yourself."

"Things change," Sabel shrugged, packing the device and the papers back into the manila envelope. He sealed it shut and packed it away in his bag. "Cale said the same thing. He often said I was and I was not the warrior he remembered fighting."

"Hm. So he's the only one aside from you still alive."

"Yeah," Sabel nodded solemnly, then started packing away his belongings, not saying a word after.

Sekhmet stayed at his seat, watching him, like he often did now, each movement of his meaning something different now that he knew the context of his arrival. He glanced away for a moment to bring out the picture he had placed back into the sleeve of his keikogi. Time held no meaning at that moment as he placed his palm over the center of the photo, his hand covering everyone except for the two men on either side of the photo: Sabel and Cale. _None of them are alive, except for these two. Even I am not… _

Sekhmet realized that he wasn't even in the photo, and since it was more of the recent ones then that meant…

"How early did I die?"

Sabel pulled away from his bag and leaned his back against the side of the bed. His eyes darted to Sekhmet's face before he looked back up at the ceiling again. He licked dry lips and sighed. "A few days after the first invasion. Kayura and the others came down to the mortal realm while you stayed behind to guard the castle."

"I see." He didn't have to say anymore.

Sabel placed the last of his belongings in his bag, snapping the knapsack close before rising to his feet and setting the bag on the bed. He reached for his trench coat. Sekhmet followed his movements with alarm. "Where are you going?"

Sabel slid on his coat, buttoning it up over his bare chest to hide his bandages, before tying his hair back. "I have to see what day it is in the Mortal realm. I can't tell from here."

"You're still wounded."

"It's important."

"I know it is." Sekhmet sighed, shaking his head. "But how do you plan on getting out? Kayura won't allow it. And you need someone to open the gate."

Sabel shouldered his bag, smiling at Sekhmet. The warlord regarded the man before him with a frustrated, yet impressed eye. _Calculative._

Sekhmet ran a hand through his dark green hair, annoyed. "What would you have done if I wasn't the one who ended up interrogating you?"

"Well, luckily that didn't happen," Sabel replied, preoccupying himself with securing his sword at his waist. "So I don't see why I have to worry about it now."

_Very calculative._ Sekhmet sighed, rising from his seat reluctantly and stretching, getting the kinks out of his muscles for sitting so long. He handed the photo back to Sabel, who took it and slipped it back in the book Sekhmet had found it in. "You owe me a reason," he said as Sabel re-closed his bag. "And a promise you'll defend me from Kayura when she finds out."

Sabel chuckled, but nodded in agreement. "I have to make sure today isn't April 21st."

"Something happened?"

"It's the day Ryo and Cye died."

Sekhmet paused. He hadn't expected the blunt response. "Ah… You need help, then?"

"No," he smiled. "I can handle this one on my own, even with my injuries."

Sabel headed for the door, but then hesitated for a moment, thinking. "There is something you can do for me," he finally said. "The metal brace that was on my right arm when you found me. Do you still have it?"

Sekhmet nodded. "But we had to cut through it to get it off of your arm."

"Was the gun still intact?"

"Yes."

"Can I have it then?" Sabel asked. "I might need it."

Sekhmet frowned, not liking the change in his tone, or the request. He remembered the feel of that weapon when he had used his armor's swords to melt through the metal. It was unnerving to even be near it.

"What _is_ that thing?" He narrowed his eyes at Sabel, waiting for an answer. "You're not the type to rely on a gun. What do you need it for?"

The blonde gave him an ironic smirk, as if his words triggered a recent memory in his mind. "Maybe I'll need it to kill an angel."

* * *

Dais opened his eyes, staring blankly at the wooden sliding doors in front of him. He blinked, and slouched lower in his chair in the middle of the hallway. _Damn it, Sekhmet. _

Even since the warlord left and came back with the strange man's belongings, Cale's been having a fit, and Kayura was even more worried than before because she was not able to tend to their injured guest. That's when he decided to keep watch, to keep Cale out, Kayura at ease, and a close eye on Sekhmet's unusual activities. Honestly, it was times like these he felt himself more of a babysitter than a warrior.

He yawned again, trying to remember when he had dozed off and not remembering being this tired when he recalled Sekhmet leaving the room again before he had fallen asleep, and the almost sour scent of lemon that followed in his wake.

Dais suddenly jumped out of his seat, realization dawning on him as he slammed the sliding door open and stormed past the waiting room straight into the bedroom.

It was empty.

He cursed under his breath, about to leave when he felt someone enter the room right after him.

In one quick turn, Dais's forearm collided against Sekhmet's chest, catching the younger man by surprise. He grabbed the front of the warlord's shirt and slammed him against the wall, his one good eye flashing dangerously. "_Where_ is he?"

"In the mortal realm."

Dais growled and slammed Sekhmet's back against the wall again. "And you had let him through the gate!"

Sekhmet nodded.

Dais gave the man one last shove before releasing him, pacing about the room in a storm of fury. "I can't believe your audacity!" he yelled. "I had trusted your judgment on the matter, even _shielded_ you from Kayura and Cale, and what do you do? Knock me out with one of your poisons to sneak him out of the nether realm? Just _where_ do your loyalties lie!"

"With _you_," Sekhmet answered back, taking a step forward. "With Kayura!" he continued. "And with everything that we hold dear."

For a moment, Dais forgot his anger, startled by the warlord's display of emotion. "I've acted in the best interest of us all," he explained. "And though there's no proof of it, and though you have no reason to, I'm asking you to trust me, like you had done for me earlier. If just for a little while longer."

Dais shook his head, frustrated by the request. "Sekhmet…"

"Please," he begged, and once again his passion surprised Dais. "I cannot explain my actions now, but I will sometime soon. Please." Sekhmet bowed his head. "Have faith."

Dais stared at him, his lips pulled into a tight frown as he continued to struggle between his shock and his anger. Sekhmet continued to keep his head low, waiting for acknowledgement to his request.

Finally, Dais huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're explaining this to Kayura," he said. "But I will let it slip that I had fallen asleep through my own faults."

"Thank you, Dais." He stood upright, giving the Master of Illusions a small nod of gratitude. "You will not regret this."

"I already do." Dais scratched the back of his head, irritated now that he was fully awake, even though his short sleep was induced by force. "Just don't poison me again or I'll use my scythes on you next time."

Sekhmet chuckled at the half hearted joke. "I'll remember that."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
O.O **:sweatdrop:** New Sabel chapter, right when I left at a cliffie on RWU… Hehehe.

Finally got this chapter nailed. -.- For some reason, I can only write Sabel chapters in one sitting. If I stop in the middle, I break my momentum and can't continue, thus rewriting the chapter over again. -.- It's annoying.

Anyway, Sage (or Sabel) is now off and about in the mortal realm. Oh the possibilities…

New RWU chapter will take a bit longer than what I had originally posted. One, because I took time off to write Sabel, and two because I believe the chapter will be a bit longer than I had originally anticipated. Be looking forward to that on the weeks to come.

Ucchan


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